A tissue from one of my pockets
shredded itself over everything
after I ran a load of laundry
in Sarah’s basement.

I tried to gather every little shred
from tank top, carpet, pant leg, sock.
With a smile and a shrug
I bent to pick them up.

I left feeling like Harlequin
dressed in the love of his friends,
which is how I always feel when I leave Sarah’s,

carrying love-shreds that spread and stick
to everything in my faraway time zone
where I bend to shreds from tile, t-shirt, carpet, tank top.